She's Killing Me
by Wohoooo
Summary: During our life according to some studies we got to see thousands of faces and all differents.But you forget them.Is a defense mechanism./During all those years i had that image of a girl i never ever knew and i neither remembered seeing before.Her face clear and pure it's tattooed in my brain/She's a blessing yet a curse.


During our life according to some studies we got to see _thousands_ of faces and all differents (round, sharp, sad ones, happy ones, devastated, defeated ones) every each of them is screaming different things, a different story. From the little girl in the bus talking to her mother to the boy with the empty stare sitting on the bench of the park that you almost stepped on. We are so absorb by our own that we never pay attention. The ironic part is that we are to that people the same that they are for us just another face between the crowds.

That's the _normal human behavior_ by the end of the day _we forget_.There's still some faces that stick in our brains. The features of the children starving in the photographs about the hunger crisis in Africa or the one of the girl brutally murdered that was showed last night in the news. According to psychologists that's because those cause a impression in your subconscious but sooner or later you forget. You forget almost everything. Is a defense mechanism.

But there's something that they never reach to explain to me. I've being looking for an answer at by this time in my life the one i embrace is one of the most illogical and kind of stupid.

Let me first explain you what is this all about but sadly or happily for you to understand it you have to listen my whole story so if you aren't willing to hear it i suggest you to stop reading this.

Well i was born in Canada but i moved to the United States when i was two years old. I grew up in a peaceful neighborhood in California, my family was wealthy and my childhood was mostly normal despite the problems between my parents. They were worse every time and ended up in a nasty divorce. According to one ire outburst of my sister it was my fault but i really don't think it was. Their relationship was a shit before my rebel phase and besides now days the course of life had change, you know forty years ago it was: born, grow up, marry, have kids and then die but currently is more like : born, grow up, marry, divorce, marry again, fail another marriage and keep looking for the ideal partner until you die. If i'm trying to tell my problem i shouldn't lose time with superfluous details about my parents.

I was a badass guy during my teenager years. I caused my parents a lot of headaches i did party hard, i smoked cigarettes (i still do, in fact I'm smoking one while i write this) and any other kind of "grass" that could lead me to unreality because my reality sucked.I loved see the floor spinning, all things losing his shapes and melting in a one giant form. I studied arts and _became a painter_.

I love play with colors and forms i try my best for transmit my feelings: the angst, the anger, the hapiness in every line that I trace with my paint-brush. I'm fairly good according to the critics. Well at this point there's nothing wrong in my story.

During all those years i had that image of a _girl_ i never ever knew and i neither remembered seeing before. Every tiny deep and curve in her face, her cheekbones, her soft features, her eyebrows, her cold eyes staring at me piercing into my very soul. Her face clear and pure it's _tattooed_ in my brain. Don't you dear to say that's a good thing, my therapist even said it was romantic, that was the reason why i change her for a new one.

She became the center of all my master pieces, _my muse_, every single feature and color on her face lead me to brand new lands. Causing a new emotion and making my brain go crazy . Sending shivers down my spine. She's a blessing yet a curse. You may be wondering what is wrong with that. Well let me tell ya that is her fault that all my relationships ended up pretty bad. Me been slapped and remembered of my mother very often. My mother disappointed of my player-jerk fame. Me dying of jealousy every time i see that look of happiness and satisfaction in a guy when he pull closer his girlfriend by her waist.

You don't had an idea of how weird uncomfortable and wrong is to be making out or sleeping with someone but thinking in a completely different person and the worst part of it: someone i didn't even knew. My friends always bother me because all the girls i date look alike. Black jet silky hair, porcelain pale skin and blue-green eyes. It's sick and insane.I know. One time someone told me that that image it's a flashback of another life a past one that i couldn't get rid of, and that's the stupid explanation that i accepted to my situation.

I continue living my life mostly as a lonely boy no surprises there. Until one day _i saw her_, i finally saw her during a trip to New York to present my latest piece in a famous Art Gallery right in the heart of the Big Apple. She was sitting in a small but elegant coffee shop reading a book. I felt my stomach heart skipped a beat and then started pounding in my ribcage. I never thought that that day would arrive. But i couldn't move it felt like my feet were glued to the ground. I couldn't move. I just stood there and looked at her the whole time. Kind of creepy huh? When i woke up from my trance she was gone. Fury anger and sadness filled my entire soul. I felt like a complete idiot, a moron. _I let her go. _

But a couple of months after fate smiled at me again. _I saw her again_ in a Vanity Fair party this time in LA. According to what i could found out she was a well-know photographer. At first she started as a model at the age of sixteen but then three years and runaways after she quit because her passion was the photography. Well that explained her amazing good looks. I finally got to talk to her she was a dream come true. Her wit, her black humor, her smile ... Ok by know isn't hard to tell that i was in love with her. _Well i still am_. Sadly. We became friends we use to hang around together very often.

My goal in life was keep all the potential boyfriends, hook ups, love interests... away from her. But i couldn't did that forever. The fucking week i left to visit my family in Canada happened what i feared my entire life. She met a guy and the worst of all, he wasn't just a guy he was _the guy_. I wanted to tell her how i feel about her long time ago but since fate helped me before i just thought it was just a matter of time. But fate played me a bad trick. So now here i am watching her from the _distance_. _Wishing_ that i was _the guy._ The one she shares secret smiles with, the one who hold her hand and make her feel loved. But i love her. i want her to be happy. That's why i let her go. So here i am feeling sorry for myself and _drowning_ my penalties in whisky, cigarettes and paint.

* * *

_**I'm in a mood for random one-shots.**_


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